


Hospice

by beetlehearts



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Loads of it, a sad collection of words about the birkins, because i care about them so much, cross-posted from deviantart, didn't write this in 2014 but wrote it in 2015 on my grandmas computer!, ill update tags and ratings as i go, so far i feel like this is tame?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-10-22 02:29:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17654333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetlehearts/pseuds/beetlehearts
Summary: "the choir's gonna sing and this thing is gonna kill you."short one shots that are focused on the birkin family and the ones who surround them.





	1. beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> this first chapter was written a little over four years ago on my grandma's computer and posted on deviantart. i intend to continue this! because i really love the birkins and care about them so much, and with the new re2 content showing them i'm back into my birkinposting. forgive me if this is bad, i just wanted to get it up so i can write the next stuff about it.

When they first meet in the spring at the Spencer Estate in Arklay, she is soft and her skin isn't as pale as a sheet. Her eyes are a powdery blue and her cornsilk hair dances around her face in soft waves. But he doesn't fall in love with that (although he admits it's a contributing factor), William Birkin falls in love with her for the fire in her eyes, the way she bites her lip as she concentrates on dabbing a chemical with her pipette, her overwhelming desire to learn, to know and to create and to list chemicals and the structures of genomes of various viruses.

He remembers staying up late with her, pouring over lab reports and endless files of lab techs and solving things together, piecing information together like little stories of new life forms. Tens of thousands of pots of coffee brewed, she took hers black and he took his double double. New experiments and the ways stem cells connected. Endless smoke breaks with toxins floating into the sky and them staring up at it, the balls of gas millions of miles away and the occasional talk about how the universe was created.

William also remembers the first time he held her hand, when he gripped it in anticipation as he was praised highly by the board of executives for his discoveries. For the way he could work until death, for the way he thought scientific sequences faster than he could put them on paper.

He squeezed her hand as hard as he did that day when they found out they were going to have a baby. And when he held Sherry in his arms and he realized that he made something, that his entire body managed to create a new thing, a new human, he smiled.

Or when they would stumble off together in search of stuff for their research and get caught up in her arms wrapped around his thin shoulders, his messy blonde hair pushed out of the way of his face as she kissed it and as they just stood there, caught up in the moment. Morphine running through their veins, struggling to get a good grip onto each other, struggling to be linked.

Even though he can feel the work of the G virus consuming him, of the endless chemical formulas and work deadlines and the fact that holy shit, he's going to be murdered in cold fucking blood just like Marcus was he still has room for these memories.


	2. i bury my face in my hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the re2 remake included the orphanage, which isn't in the previous games, and it got me thinking to how both birkins would react to it.

Annette Birkin was always right.

She had been right about the tiniest things since she was a shy teenager, since she had been at Arklay, since they had moved to NEST. She was right about William loving her when he pushed aside her hair and kissed her cheek and handed her the ring and she was right about the way Sherry would look when she came into the world (lighter blonde hair like her, William’s nose).

Her observations were based off prior knowledge, not a gut feeling like some would think, and when one of the researchers had informed her of the existence of the Raccoon City Orphanage she knew that this research was going to kill them for what they had done. The heightened nervousness in her husband’s hands did not stem from what had happened to those children, it stemmed from Umbrella’s fingers.

William worked in silence, nervously biting his bottom lip and doing that foot tapping thing he had done since she had met him. Their, no, his side of the lab seemed to get colder every day, and as the clock ticked closer to nine, Annette felt herself feeling split in two. She longed to begin the long track upwards to go home and and tell her daughter she loved her. And then there was the other option to sit and wait for William until he passed out, then care for him as if he were a child, place a blanket around his shoulders and carefully move any samples or lab equipment as to make sure he would not knock it over 

There was something else inside of her, something begging her to do neither of these things. There was something that wanted her to grab him by his shoulders and shake him violently and scream and scream and scream, and beg him to stop, because she knew Golgotha was going to kill them, and this is all wrong, it had been wrong from the start, and how can he not hear the cries of those kids down the hallway and know that their own daughter was at home in a house full of nothing?

She sits in an uncomfortable chair, hands folded in her lap, and as these scenarios played in her mind Annette thought about the laughable sitcoms where incompetent husbands don’t do what the wife tells them to, and they screw up, and it’s a funny moment for the nuclear family at home to watch and laugh at, because it’s so true. Annette prays at this point that this isn’t true, and that William won’t screw up, and she will be the one that is in the wrong this time. 

When William’s low breathing and his foot tapping and the sound of a pencil making notes becomes too much, Annette stows away to one of the facility bathrooms and lets a low, deep sob trail from her chest.

She hopes that they won’t be punished for the children and that this won’t kill them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter title is based off the song "usher, part 1" from the musical/story ghost quartet. please listen to it it's genius.  
> *comments&feedback are appreciated! also if u wanna follow my birkin/re tumblr it's @/scholarlywill


	3. i suffer from a family evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> claire visits and brings a gift, and we see in the life of sherry in government custody

**MAY 2000**  

The rain pattered against the windowpane, a nearby tree branch thumped aimlessly against the window. Sherry Birkin pressed her back against the wall like she did when she had first been left to her own devices. The daybed still squeaks the same way it did when she had sat down for the first time, and it’s raining like the same day Leon had been taken into custody and Derek and Dr. Radames had sat down and taken all those blood samples.

Her eyes move from the rain dripping down the window to the clock in the corner of the room, sitting above the doorway. The minute hand inched closer and closer to the twelve, and she wished instead of cellular regeneration that G gave her time powers. At exactly twelve, a servant would appear in the doorway, and Sherry would be whisked away for approximately an hour of visitation time with none other than Claire Redfield.

Sherry’s hand twitches, and her foot taps, and she grimaces and focuses herself on the tree branch that’s tapping against her window instead of the way her body reacts. One of the government doctors had wrote down on their pad of paper that she was _predisposed to anxiety disorders_. However, she wasn’t twelve anymore, and completely oblivious to what they said about her, and later in the night when thinking about Raccoon she remembered her parent’s own tapping and begun to focus on whatever she could to get rid of the sound.

The blonde glances out the window, Claire’s Subaru is already parked and there seems to be no one inside of it. Sherry briefly remembered Claire mumbling something about security clearance on one of the first days they had their hour long visits, and it sort of made sense, but also didn’t. Claire would never hurt her, and even if she did bring some sort of firearm, it was probably more of a “fear of t-virus leak” thing then a “I’m going to kill some guards and steal Sherry away.”

Sometimes she wished it was the second one.

The door opens suddenly and with such force that Sherry is shocked for a second. In the doorway stands one of Derek’s more sheepish servants. His face is contorted into something resembling an Umbrella employee at an ethics conference.

“Civilian Redfield is here to see you, miss Birkin.”

Surprised by the sudden appearance (considering the minute hand had not reached the twelve yet), Sherry awkwardly slid off the daybed. After the past two years, she was still unused to the words “miss” and “civilian”. She had dealt with “doctor” for a good portion of her early life, and it had become almost a third title for her, but the words they used here just felt so artificial and plastic-like. As she walked down the hallway, servant diligently behind her, she could hear the rustling of papers and what sounded like Claire’s voice.

“I’ve been here for twenty minutes, Simmons, and I don’t see the reason wh-”

Claire’s arms are up in the air, and it looks like she had just dropped something onto his desk. The ever-patient Derek has his arms crossed. His neck almost seems to snap in the direction of Sherry, who, upon entering, had made Claire go completely quiet.

“While you were ranting, I paged someone to retrieve her for you.” Claire looks sheepish, and puts her hands down, pushing the bundle of papers closer to him. Sherry wants to strain her eyes to see what the package is. The redhead turns to Sherry cheerfully, and with a quick “thank you” to Derek, grabs the other girl’s hands in her own and turns into the office that they had their meetings in.

It doesn’t help that their meeting room served as the same place Sherry met with her counselor. She sits down in her usual chair, picking at the green material that pokes out from the side. Claire sits across from her, a bright smile on her face, and leans her hands over. Sherry brings the hand that she had been fidgeting up from where it sat only when the doctor was in the room with her, and she presses her hand’s into Claire’s, the bundle of papers still on her mind.

“How’s school?” It’s always her first question.

“Physics is giving me trouble.” Sherry admits, playing with Claire’s hand.

“I’d help, but I think you know how I feel about anything...sciencey, or with numbers. Did I tell you how much that TerraSave training course on the T-Virus almost killed me? I’m glad it wasn't graded, I think I wouldn’t have the job.”

It usually isn’t like Claire to bring virus talk into their visits, Sherry thinks and wonders if Claire notices how her brow scrunches up when she mentions TerraSave. The blonde had confided in Claire previously that yes, she did think TerraSave was vital and important but at the same time, she would prefer to hear things about the latest music trends or new fashions rather then constant reminders of why she was permanently confined to her room, sans lessons and the rare time she was able have some fresh air in the gardens outside the mansion.

“How’s Leon?” Sherry asks, wanting her mind to drift away from outbreaks.

“He’s fine, I think.” Her expression is unreadable. This is where Sherry notices that her older friend seemed a little off, and she gets the quiet urge to ask her questions about what she dropped off to Derek.

“I think his DSO training is keeping him occupied.” Claire adds, removing her hand from Sherry’s and drumming her slender fingers on the table. Sherry lets out an “mhm”, thinking about how the last time she had seen Leon at Christmas, and how it had felt like twenty minutes despite the three hours she had spent with him.

“Your hair’s getting long, Sherbear.” Claire remarks, the hand once again moving, this time to ruffle her bangs. Sherry laughs quietly and Claire moves part of her hair behind her ear.

“You look so much like your mother.”

The silence that follows is enough you could hear a pin drop. Sherry’s breathing hitches as she fully registers what Claire says, and her hand moves back to pick at the fabric of the chair. Little strands of green come out hurriedly, as Sherry tries to paint a picture of what her mother looked like in her mind. Blonde hair, a pale face. That’s all she can remember sometimes.

“I’m sorry, that probably wasn’t the best thing to say.” Claire admits, and tries to bring her hand to Sherry’s hair but the girl flinches away. Claire’s expression is still unreadable, but she pulls her hands back and rests them on her lap below the table.

“No, it really wasn’t.” Sherry’s eyes are focused back on Claire’s and she tries to do the same stare she sometimes replicated from Derek. But it doesn’t work on Claire, and she resigns herself to stop as Claire brings her hands up to the table once more, unsure where to put them. A hand extends and the smaller palm is pressed to the bigger one.

“Chris sent me an email the other day. It had some Umbrella files on it that they recovered from a lab sweep in Paris. There was some pictures of your parents in the fray. Sure, they’re mostly...from psychiatric evaluations and identification cards, but I think you deserve them. And looking back-” Claire leans forward and puts her hands on the sides of Sherry’s face “-You do look like Annette. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

Her chest aches as the redhead says that. During the nights where she had gone to bed early, feigning a stomachache, Sherry had traced over the IV scars and thought about the cells in her body that G infected, the cells that she was made of, the fact that she was made up of two people who had almost destroyed the world.

Sometimes she felt like another version of Golgotha.

“I say this a lot, but she really loved you, Sherry.” The tears prick at her eyes, and soon they are a waterfall, and she almost blacks out as they overwhelm her and Claire is at her side in an instant, rubbing her back like the mother she never had or deserved. Her cries turn to wails, and she grasps at Claire’s back, and she knows they don’t have much time because the door slams open in almost ten seconds like clockwork.

Derek stands in the doorway, flanked by an ever-present servant, and his voice is loud, but not screaming, and the tone is the way that makes you shake from fear at having someone so powerful in front of you.

“We have a clear agreement that miss Birkin will not be reduced to tears while you are here, Redfield.” Between her sobs and the anger rolling off of Claire, Sherry swears she can hear the sneer in his voice. He’s not a bad man, but in this moment he is, and she wishes she could sink into the floor with no one but Claire for company.

Claire’s anger doesn’t rear it’s head today, and she kisses the top of Sherry’s head and pats her back before she pulls away as gently as possible. Sherry tries to stop the weeping, and she looks to the floor, but she can still feel Claire bristle under Derek’s eyes as she gets up to leave. The last time an incident had happened where Claire had refused to leave, a glock had been pulled on her.

The door slams as Derek follows Claire to make sure she had left, and the servant is the one gently guiding Sherry to her feet and leading her back to the dark bedroom. The rain seemed to have picked up, and as the door is locked with a click and Sherry crawls under the covers of the daybed and through the budding tree branches that are drenched with water, her red eyes peek out and she watches Claire’s car speed away. She falls into an unsteady sleep afterwards, where she drifts through a hall of mirrors with a blonde woman looking back at her.

\--

Supper is some pasta meal that she picks at as she sits across the table from Derek. The lighting is low in the dining hall like it usually is, and the wails that had stained her throat before her nap make it hard to eat. Sherry can feel his eyes bore into her head every few minutes, looking up from the files he holds in one hand while the other scrapes against the plate. Sherry takes another bite as the courage in her throat outweighs the food.

“Claire...told me she brought some files.”

“Did she, now?”

“Could..I have a look at them?”

Sherry looks up from her plate across the table, and Derek has that look in his eye again. He examines her head, the way she holds her fork, the way her foot is partially picked at.

“Based on your...outburst...I want to refuse that request. But-” He passes the papers across the tables. Sherry scrambles to get them like a starved dog, her first quick movement since Raccoon, and she pulls them to her chest like a hidden treasure. 

"-finish your dinner first."

\--

Her fingers trace Annette’s hair. Cornsilk blonde, straightened in an orderly fashion. Bags frame her eyes and her mouth looks small and sallow. Her skin is pale, like sour milk. Sherry presses a finger to it, tracing the outline over and over as if she had powers and could bring her out of the picture. She sits in front of the mirror in the bedroom, and she holds up the photograph beside her face to compare the way they looked. Sherry’s nose is a little larger, but her hair is the same shade and she can only faintly see the outline of the same freckles as her father’s. She had stared at William’s for a while, feeling braver to face him then to face her mother, and they had the same nose, and the same freckles and the same blue eyes but her bone structure is all Annette’s.

She doesn’t tap her foot or her hands or bite her lip, and no tears come out, and she resigns herself to the fate of being a Birkin.

The next day, Sherry asks for a haircut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo this took way longer then expected cause i lost my muse for a while. i'm..not that proud of this bc im so shit at dialogue, but i hope it's good for everyone reading ! some notes  
> \- i imagine by re6 sherry has gone thru the works of therapy and has come to terms with how her parents acted. this chapter...she is nowhere near that point.  
> \- the chapter title is referencing ghost quartet once again. please listen to it.  
> \- claire has a subaru because they marketed towards lesbians in the 90s  
> \- i think a lot of people forget simmons "raised" sherry, like he was a huge asshole but he did provide her with things she needed expect emotional support. he instilled a lot of fear into her i feel and that's why she was compliant, and she didn't really have a lot of other options.
> 
> i'm going to try and update this ! every week maybe ! i am pretty busy because i'm in my last year of hs and deadlines are approaching but i'll try my hardest. i'm also planning a lot of other fics. feel free to check out my tumblr @/scholarlywill where i post re stuff!!!


End file.
